


Release the Kraken, ILLUSTRATED by Miele_Petite, for Ineffable Con 2 NSFW zine

by GayDemonicDisaster (scrapheapchallenge)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens), Aziraphale is Not Innocent (Good Omens), Aziraphale is Not Oblivious (Good Omens), Aziraphale is a Little Shit (Good Omens), Aziraphale is a Tease (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Flirting (Good Omens), Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Crowley's Bentley (Good Omens), Crowley's Kraken, M/M, Sex in the Bentley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:03:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27124240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrapheapchallenge/pseuds/GayDemonicDisaster
Summary: Crowley brings Aziraphale some delectable pastries, but underestimates exactly how stimulating he will find the ensuing scenes of gastronomic debauchery that ensue. Finding it all a bit much, he flees to take care of things, but in his haste, makes a minor miraculous mishap, which leads to Aziraphale finding out rather more than Crowley intended...My contribution to the Ineffable Con NSFW zine in partnership with the ever talentedMiele_Petite.This started out with a birthday gift from Miele in the form of uncoloured line art of Crowley's mighty Kraken, which she said I could use for any fic I liked. So I decided to ask if we should collab for the zine. Miele agreed and offered to colour the line art and add a sneaky Aziraphale as well.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 64
Kudos: 207
Collections: Crack Fic Comedy Porn, The Ineffable Con 2





	Release the Kraken, ILLUSTRATED by Miele_Petite, for Ineffable Con 2 NSFW zine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Miele_Petite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miele_Petite/gifts).



> *There was a minor editorial error when the fic was transferred into the PDF zine which changed one of the words from the original Pratchett quote so it didn't make sense - this is the original version with correct wording :)  
>  **If you are using Chrome browser, there is a known AO3/chrome conflict when it comes to displaying images sometimes, so if it doesn't show, try right clicking and choosing "view image". It should work ok on firefox and iOS though. Unfortunately this is an AO3 issue and not something I have control of.**
> 
>   
> **NEW![Quefish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quefish/pseuds/Quefish) did a VERY drunk reading of this fic, embedded video (and clickable link) at the end. **  
> 

It was the éclair that did it, Crowley thought. The Chocolate éclair, in the library, with the… No. The Cluedo simile was falling apart, as was Crowley’s thought process - rapidly devolving into incoherence under the onslaught of the angel in his lap. 

It was the _angel_ , _with_ the éclair, in the _bookshop_ , who did the deed. 

Then again, it was Crowley who had put the weapon into his hands - well, mouth. Heh. _‘Weapon’_ he giggled inside his own head. _More than one now._

Crowley had to admit a rather large (creamy) dollop of responsibility for how events had unfolded, and whilst he had been briefly alarmed, it had all worked out in his favour in the end, even if he didn’t plan it that way. 

It had begun with Crowley, sauntering easily down the street, and his sharp serpentine senses picked up on the delectable scent of freshly baked goods from the local pâtisserie. He followed his nose, and came to a halt outside the window, gazing at the enticing treats within. 

They held no gastronomic interest for Crowley himself. Give him a nice bottle of Château Lafite Rothschild 1958 and that was him set up for the night. Oh, and a good strong black coffee in the morning, or afternoon, depending on when he woke up. 

No, fine cuisine held a fascination for Crowley not for what it could do for _him_ , at least not directly, but for what it could do for Aziraphale. The most delicious looking angel he had ever set his golden slitted eyes upon. 

It was truly an experience, to sit in Aziraphale’s presence while he got his lips wrapped around whichever culinary treat that Crowley had indulged him in. The demon would sit there, feeling safe behind the relative anonymity of his shades, fist clenched tight on the table to keep it resolutely away from his crotch, as he watched Aziraphale’s delighted little wriggles and delightfully debauched noises as he devoured each morsel with relish. 

Crowley was very glad for the existence of long tablecloths. Many of their fine dining experiences might have been rather more embarrassing affairs were it not for the blessedly censoring effect of them on Crowley’s tightly wrapped nether regions. 

Anyway - the éclair. Long and glossy and filled with cream. Perfect. Just the thing Aziraphale loved to get down his throat. Crowley bit his cheek and tried to rein in his overactive imagination before it got carried away. Pastries - right. Just a box. A little selection, he could pop by the bookshop and present them to Aziraphale, use it as an excuse to relax there for a while with a cup of coffee and indulge in his own guilty pleasure, of surreptitiously observing the angel enjoying his food. 

He had to fill his mental wank bank _somehow_ , after all. And if he could make Aziraphale smile in the process, all for the better. Crowley wandered into the shop and selected a few items to be wrapped up in a fancy box, and sauntered away with it tucked carefully under his arm. He placed it on the passenger seat of the Bentley, used a small miracle to ensure that it wouldn’t slide about, no matter how hard he drove, and set off. 

* * *

“Angel?” Crowley called out as the bell over the door jangled back into silence again. “Brought you a little something.”

Aziraphale poked his head out from around a bookshelf, a delighted expression flowed across his features. 

“Crowley!” He cooed. “How simply lovely to see you, shall I pop the kettle on?”

“Not sure it’ll fit you, but sure, give it a go,” Crowley grinned back. Aziraphale rolled his eyes at the demon and wandered back to the small kitchenette at the back. Crowley placed the box on the little coffee table, then sank down onto the sofa in a pile of untidy angles, in the manner of a collapsed deckchair. 

A little later, Aziraphale reappeared, bearing a cup of Earl Grey tea for himself, and a cup of coffee for Crowley, passing it over with a smile as he espied the box from the bakery. 

“Oh Crowley, you shouldn’t have.”

“Eh, it’s no big deal, just saw them and thought of you.” Crowley coughed and backtracked hurriedly. “I mean… thought you might like them, y’know, um…” He gave up and gulped the scalding coffee to shut himself up before he put his foot in it. 

Aziraphale settled down in his own chair and lifted the lid on the box, his aura fairly glowing in contentment at the sight. 

“Oh how lovely.” First he selected a raspberry macaron and popped it down the hatch, closing his eyes happily as he crunched through the crisp outer shell into the chewy centre, moaning as he did. Crowley shifted slightly in his seat and licked his lips. It had begun. He settled down to enjoy the show. 

Next to be plucked from the box by the angel’s finely manicured fingers was a canelé. He licked delicately at the fine dusting of gold leaf the pâtissière had chosen to decorate the confection with, then took a bite of the soft little pastry with its subtle vanilla tones, infused with a hint of rum within its caramelised exterior. He chewed thoughtfully, wriggling in his seat slightly, then devoured the second half as Crowley sneaked a cushion into his lap as casually as he could muster. 

A crisp millefeuille was the next item to come under Aziraphale’s close consideration. He held his hand underneath it as he bit through the pastry and it shattered into flakes at the touch of his teeth. Little crumbs festooned his delicate lips, and his pink tongue darted out to lick them clean. Crowley whined under his breath, his traitorous cock stirring uncomfortably in his overly tight jeans at the sight. 

Aziraphale paused to sip some tea, then his gaze alighted on the chocolate éclair. A devilish smile lit up his features and he dived in, picking up the long, plump and slightly phallic pastry, regarding it with the hungriest look in his eyes. His lips parted gently and Crowley began to feel slightly faint with the rush of blood to his nether regions. He felt his pulse flutter a tad faster, and struggled to retain his ice-cool façade. He swallowed nervously and bit his lip. 

Aziraphale’s tongue darted out to lick a drip of chocolate from the tip and Crowley suddenly felt altogether far, far too hot. He wriggled out of his jacket, not taking his eyes from the angel for a moment. Next Aziraphale opened wide and slid the éclair into his mouth, taking a generous bite. A smidgen of sweet whipped cream smeared his lips and Crowley groaned quietly before quickly covering his mouth with his fist and discreetly biting down on his own knuckles to shut himself up. 

The angel chewed delicately, then swallowed, throat rippling, licked his lips, then noticed a dollop of cream about to fall from the bitten end of the éclair. He swept it up on a fingertip, then conveyed it to his mouth to lick it off the digit in a blatantly extravagant display of truly sinful proportions that made the demon break out in a cold sweat.

“Oh Crowley, this is without doubt the most delightful thing I’ve had in my mouth in simply _ages…_ ” Aziraphale enthused. 

Crowley.exe stopped working. 

“... So _delightfully_ creamy…”

“Ngk.” Crowley sat, eyes wide behind his shades as Aziraphale popped the remainder of the éclair into his mouth, closing his eyes with a look of rapturous delight and an ecstatic little moan. Crowley’s trousers were approximately 97% smaller in the crotch region than when he’d arrived. Definitely too tight. Far, _far_ too tight. 

“I forgot!” Crowley blurted out. “Got to… in the car, the… thing. Yeah. Forgot, sorry, Aziraphale, gotta go and, um…” He scuttled for the door in a panic, hoping to hell that the extremely obvious bulge in his jeans hadn’t been glimpsed. “... got to, yeah. See you later, good seeing you! Enjoy the rest of the cream, _fuck._ Of the, the… things. Foods. Enjoy!” He fled, leaving a very bemused angel in his wake, still chewing on the pastry.

Crowley bolted for the Bentley parked by the kerb outside, heart hammering in his chest, quivering with nerves, yanked the door open and flung himself in the seat. With shaking hands, he hurriedly tried to snap to black out the windows. There was no way he’d be able to drive in this state, he needed to take care of things first. 

Unfortunately, in his haste, he hadn’t quite snapped properly.

The windows were not, as he assumed, blacked out.

Crowley hoisted himself up off the car seat and yanked at his belt buckle with trembling fingers, before shoving his jeans down off his hips, swearing at the difficulty of the skin-tight encumbrances, allowing his impressively sized cock to spring free at last. 

He sank back down into the seat and pulled at his cock, closed his eyes and allowed his head to tip back as he sought relief, his mind flooded with the erotic imagery of the past few minutes in the bookshop, letting his hand work as the other gripped the steering wheel to ground himself. 

* * *

_**[(Still can't see the image? Click here.)](http://ukshires.net/AO3/Miele_Petite-release-the-kraken-full-resolution.jpeg) ** _

* * *

Aziraphale wasn’t at all sure what to make of Crowley’s sudden disappearance, but he’d left his jacket behind on the sofa. Licking the last bit of chocolate from his thumb, Aziraphale stood and crossed the room to pick up the jacket. He hadn’t heard the engine of the Bentley start up yet, perhaps Crowley hadn’t moved off, he might be able to rush out and give it back. 

He peered out of the window and sure enough the car was still parked outside, Crowley sitting in the driver’s seat, head tipped back, shaking somewhat. What on earth was wrong? Aziraphale gathered up the jacket and strode out to investigate and give the demon his jacket back before he left, and to thank him properly for the afternoon tea delicacies. 

Aziraphale stepped out into the street, it was unusually quiet this afternoon, and strode over to the Bentley. Crowley was still sitting with his eyes closed, shaking and…

“Oh good Lord!”

Aziraphale froze in his tracks, taking in the sight before him, mouth hanging open in surprise. Crowley had unleashed quite a… well. Aziraphale’s mind somewhat stalled at this point, lost for adequate description. It was certainly a great _big_ bugger at any rate, rising up from between his legs, rising up… it rather put him in mind of something.

Remembering where they were, and not having any particularly coherent train of thought, Aziraphale hastily opened the passenger door and leapt in, slamming it closed behind him, and snapping his fingers to _actually_ black out the windows.

Crowley’s head spun around quicker than a whippet with a bum full of dynamite. His eyes went wide and he froze, his hand stilled in a death grip on his cock. A strangled string of consonants escaped from his lips which defied any rational attempt at translating into text. Suffice to say the exclamation of noises from the arse end of the alphabet made no more sense to Crowley himself than they did to Aziraphale, who simply held up the jacket by way of explanation. 

“You forgot something.” He said. 

“Wztph?”

“Well you forgot a few things, actually,” Aziraphale said with a weak smile. 

“Astfgl?”* Crowley wheezed, still frozen in shock. 

“Well for one, you forgot your jacket. Secondly, I think you might have forgotten to miracle your windows opaque before embarking upon your current… endeavour…” Aziraphale swallowed nervously.

“And thirdly, I believe you may have forgotten that you’re not the only one who appreciates our little intimate dining moments together.”

Crowley gulped, his brows knitted in confusion. He still gripped onto his rock-hard cock like a drowning man gripping onto a piece of driftwood to stay afloat in a sea of uncertainty. 

“It hasn’t escaped my notice that you rather, um, _…enjoy..._ dining together. I would like to apologise, as I fear that your current predicament is somewhat my fault. I confess that I was perhaps… hamming it up a little? For your benefit?”

“You were _what?”_

Aziraphale squirmed slightly. A guilty expression passed across his face, and then came back and camped there. 

“I was just trying to return the favour. You brought me such delectable treats, so I decided to show you my appreciation, as I thought you might enjoy it. I fear I may have gone overboard a little.”

Crowley was incredulous. 

“You were putting on that entire display **_for my benefit?”_**

“... Maybe a little.” Aziraphale confessed with raised eyebrows and an apologetic smile. 

Crowley finally let go of his cock, mouth opening and closing silently for a moment. Aziraphale’s gaze slid downward and he licked his lips without entirely meaning to. The movement did not escape Crowley’s notice. 

“What on earth were you expecting to gain from all that then?” Crowley eventually asked. 

“Well... something like this was probably somewhere at the back of my mind, if I’m completely honest I suppose. At least in certain daydreams.”

“Daydreams?”

“Alright, fantasises,” the angel admitted. 

Crowley reached up and rubbed the bridge of his nose, before pinning Aziraphale with a serious gaze. 

“Let me get this straight, because I need to be completely, utterly, one hundred percent clear on this point: you have fantasized about me getting my cock out over your frankly obscene enjoyment of food?”

Aziraphale’s eyes darted away for a second before looking down at his own lap, shamefaced. 

“...Yes?” he said in a quiet voice. 

“Oh.” Crowley said after a moment of silence between them. 

“Quite.”

Aziraphale dared to look up. Crowley met his gaze, they remained that way for approximately 2.5 seconds before suddenly surging together into a passionate kiss. 

As kisses go, it was … something. Chaotic for a start. A jumbled mess of hands tangling in hair, lips smashed together, bruising against teeth, tongues wrestling for dominance and a truly amateurish, but thoroughly enjoyable and intense period of discovery for the pair of them. 

After an indeterminable amount of time, they began to relax into the kiss somewhat, and hands began to drift to other areas of each other’s bodies, meandering at a leisurely pace downwards before eventually arriving somewhere around belt level (at least Aziraphale’s belt level, Crowley’s was still around his knees), with a questioning “mmm?” mumbled against each other’s mouths in enquiry. Both endeavoured to nod without breaking the kiss, and hands continued lower. 

Crowley jolted slightly as Aziraphale’s soft questing hand slipped around his cock with practised ease as if he’d been training for this moment for years, and a low moan reverberated through the demon’s ribcage at the touch. 

Crowley’s hand now caressed Aziraphale’s rapidly filling cock through his trousers and felt it twitch under his gentle touch. Aziraphale nodded eagerly into the kiss and drew closer, then a few moments later, shifted his hips back a little, causing Crowley to lift his hand off, concerned.  
  
His concern quickly flipped into outright confusion and near panic as Aziraphale broke off the kiss, bent down low and put his lips and tongue to a far more enjoyable use than mere consumption of food items. 

“Urk.” Crowley gulped, then whimpered and tried to concentrate to stop himself from melting into a snakey puddle on the seat as that angelic tongue began positively dancing around his cock, working up and down with delightful fluttering licks before coming up again to swirl around the head and then delving down again. Aziraphale apparently decided to choose this moment to discover that angels do not possess a gag reflex. 

“A.. Az… AziraPHAAAAALE!” Crowley yelped out, hips jerking reflexively. The angel merely hummed and swallowed down deeper as Crowley’s eyes rolled back in his head and he hissed out a string of unintelligible sibilants, hands grasping at Aziraphale’s soft blonde curls in his lap. His train of thought had been well and truly derailed.

Aziraphale was picking up the pace now, making the same contented little noises he made while he enjoyed a particularly delectable morsel of haute cuisine. It was far too much for Crowley, and with a long low groan and a bone-deep shudder, he served up an extra portion of cream for Aziraphale to enjoy. Which he did, swallowing it all down eagerly with a happy hum. 

He lifted off and damn it all if the angelic bastard didn’t pull the handkerchief from his top pocket and use it like a napkin to dab delicately at his lips as he did at the end of every meal, with a satisfied grin and a saucy look in his eyes. 

“...Angel…?” Crowley gasped, still trying to wrap his head around the activities that had just transpired. Aziraphale had a particularly smug smirk plastered across his features. Crowley’s gaze slid downwards to take in Aziraphale’s still tented trousers, then met his gaze again. 

“May I sample the menu as well?”

Aziraphale sat back with a smile. 

“Absolutely, dear boy.”

Crowley grinned and bent down.

* * *

NEW! [Quefish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quefish/pseuds/Quefish) did a HILARIOUS (and VERY drunk) youtube reading of this fic:

  
  
Link [HERE](https://youtu.be/q5-oQrR0CBw?t=11811), set to start at 3:16:51 ish, which is where she starts reading - as she read lots of other fics before (and after)

**Author's Note:**

> * If anyone got this reference you get a high five and my endless appreciation. I was so proud to be able to turn a random keysmash Crowley utterance into an easter egg from another Pratchett book. 
> 
> I used "wztph" first as a canon keysmash utterance used by Agnes Nitt in "Carpe Jugulum" - a Discworld book by Sir Terry Pratchett. 
> 
> But using "Astfgl" as a random keysmash stems from another Pratchett Discworld book - "Eric". Why it is particularly relevant, is because it's actually the name for the ruler of Hell in that universe. A demon who is trying to reform hell using bureaucracy, paperwork, forms and annoying office workplace type jargon and micromanaging.


End file.
